


Like Wildflowers and Flames, Growing

by RogueSapphic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery
Genre: F/F, Female Rowan Khanna, Friends to Lovers trope, but im also pretty much doing my own thing, follows the main storyline, implied trans!jacob, lowkey slowburn, mc and rowan are hufflepuffs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-07-15 23:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16073735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueSapphic/pseuds/RogueSapphic
Summary: Within two years, Shiri Sibylline's life had been flipped upside down. Her parents and sister were dead, both of her brothers had disappeared, and worse yet, her brother Jacob had soiled their family name by being expelled from Hogwarts after breaking all kinds of rules. Now such a scandal rests on young eleven-year-old Shiri's shoulders as she starts her time at Hogwarts.Facing visions, a cruel Slytherin intent on getting her expelled, and searching for her missing brothers, Shiri partners up with a plethora of students to solve the mystery of the Curse Vaults.





	1. A Trip to Diagon Alley

If there are three things Shiri Sibylline has come to know in her short decade of being alive, these are it: yarn will tangle no matter what you do, cutting your hair yourself will never look as good as you hope it will, and you _never **ever**_ want to be at Diagon Alley in late July.

Drawing in a breath, she pushes up onto her toes, trying her best to see over the heads of bustling families moving from store to store. A woman dragging along a blonde boy who looked around Shiri’s age, knocks into her, never slowing her pace. Sighing, Shiri shakes it off, tugs her jacket tighter around herself and pulls her bag higher on her shoulder. The only thing worse than being at Diagon Alley in July, was being in Diagon Alley in July alone; but there was little choice in Shiri’s case. Being alone had recently become a way of life for her.

Still, small as she was, she uses it to her advantages, dipping and scooting between the rest of the magic folk and slightly-panicked muggle parents filling the street. She’s barely a few feet before she’s bumping into someone, almost knocking the both of them off their feet. Shiri’s quick to catch her bag before it can drop as the other girl fumbles to steady herself.

The both of them stumble further out of the way of everyone else, pressed up against a wall between the glass windows of a pair of storefronts. With a huff, Shiri blows choppy strands of dark hair out of her face before glancing to the other. The girl stands only a little bit taller than Shiri herself ( _though that is not a difficult feat_ ), with straight dark hair neat around her long face. Her glasses are a little askew, but she’s quick to rectify that.

“Sorry. You okay?” Shiri asks, tucking closer against the wall as a family rush passed them. The girl simply nods and shoves her hand through her hair.

“Yeah, I’m fine —” There’s a brief pause as she looks down to where Shiri’s books are half sticking out of her bag, then she lights up with a grin, “— Are you starting at Hogwarts too this year?”

Shiri huffs a soft laugh, shrugging a bit: “Yeah. I was just about to go get my wand actually,” she replies, glancing down the street to try and spot Ollivander’s shopfront. Giddily, the other shifts from foot to foot.

“That’s great! Though, can I — can I ask your opinion on something?” She doesn’t give Shiri a second to answer. “I was planning on buying something special before I get to Hogwarts, something that says I’m intellectual on her way to becoming Head Girl; but I’m not sure what to get. What do you think I should buy?”

A pause, then a small slightly-confused smile draws across Shiri’s face: “Scarves are pretty, y’know, ‘scholarly’. In dark colours, at least. I like purple, personally.” She pushes away from the wall, makes a small motion over her shoulder as she starts to walk towards Ollivander’s. The girl nods, face screwed up in thought, then turns quickly to shout after Shiri.

“Wait! I didn’t even ask your name!” The taller holding a hand out to her when she looks back, “I’m Rowan Khanna.”

“Shiri,” she replies, giving a short nod and quickly shaking Rowan’s hand. Twisting away, she throws a wave over her shoulder as she continues down the street.

“It was nice meeting you!” comes Rowan’s voice, called after her before it’s drowned out by the bustling street.

 

     Stepping into Ollivander’s, she’s quick to notice that it’s close to empty at this point. There’s a small family of three walking out, a boy around her age twisting a wand box in his hands carefully. As she glances around, she notes the shelves lining all the walls; rows of them stretching for what seems like forever, and each shelf is filled to the brim with wand boxes, some old and weathered with yellowing cardboard, other’s new and shiny with neatly tied ribbons. Stepping up to the desk, Shiri takes a moment to examine the wands under the glass, each expensive and intricate. Seconds later, an older man steps forward, dusting off his hands before clapping them together. His white curls are stringy around his face as he looks at her.

“Welcome, here for your first wand, are you?” Garrick Ollivander. His face is not a new one, albeit that doesn’t settle Shiri’s nerves as she shifts from foot to foot. For a moment, she wonders if he remembers her face from the times when she’d had come with her older siblings for their first wands. If he does, he doesn’t say so, instead whipping a wand out, posing the ends between the pointer and thumb of both hands. “Give this one a whirl: applewood, dragon heartstring core, nine inches and rigid.”

Shiri takes it carefully, weighing it in her hand, before giving it a spiralling twirl before her. Immediately, it sparks with a little burst of flame and her shoulders tense. Ollivander tsks lightly and takes it from her hand.

“Sorry,” she says. He waves her apology off.

“No need to apologise; the wand chooses the wizard, and this is simply not the wand for you.” There’s a pause as he looks down at her again, meeting her golden eyes. “You know, that brother of your’s — _Jacob, I believe?_ — exploded my favourite inkpot with the first one we tried.” The tension doesn’t leave Shiri’s shoulders.

“You remember my brother?” Her voice is thick, throat tight. Jacob had quickly become a household name, and not for any good reasons.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold. His was maple wood with a dragon heartstring core. Ten inches.” A pause, then a short sigh, “A fine wand. Such a shame they snapped it in half when he was expelled.” Shiri flinches slightly at that, fingers tightening around her bag strap. “I understand that he ran away after that, and he’s been missing ever since. That must have had a profound impact on you.”

She doesn’t quite meet his eye, Jacob was still a sore subject; “I … felt bad for him. He loved Hogwarts. I still don’t —“ she cuts herself off with a sigh, “I just hope he’s okay.” Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as Ollivander tilts his head side to side, as if thinking, then turns on his heel, voice echoing back to her as he heads down one of the rows of wands.

“Sensitivity can be a great strength, I think I have just the wand for you.”

Moments later, he reappears, carefully pulling open a box to reveal a dark sand-coloured wand, long and thin; the base was carved into a small flower and more ‘petals’ were carved down the wand's length.

He places the box down, picks up the wand and holds it out to her: “Willow wood, unicorn hair core, twelve-and-a-half inches, sturdy. Try it.”

She takes it warily, but the moment it comes into contact with her skin, it feels … strangely warm. An odd spark shoots up her arm, tingling from her fingertips up to her collarbone. Her nose crinkles a little as she looks down at it, then to Ollivander. He smiles lightly, makes a small motion with his hand as if telling her to ‘go on’. With a deep breath, she lifts the wand and gives it a bouncy flick. Then, a kind of glow encases her, a breeze that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere blowing her dark uneven hair around. The breeze fades, her hair even more of a mess as it settles again. As she pushes a hand through her locks, Ollivander claps his hands together.

“Splendid! I’ll certainly be interested to see the path you choose. Hopefully, you don’t follow in the steps of your brother.”

With a tight smile, Shiri nods, hands over the galleons, and then makes a quick exit with her new wand back snuggly in its box.


	2. All Aboard The Hogwarts Express!

     September 1st comes quicker than she could have imagined. Stepping onto the train platform after passing through Platform 9 ¾, she’s thrown right into the thick of families and young witches and wizards preparing to get aboard the train to Hogwarts. Shiri pushes her cart along, steadying one hand atop her rat cage so that it wouldn't fall. Inside the cage, Bibbidi was quietly squeaking. Her owl, Presto, who was once shared between her and Jacob, resided already at the Hogwarts’ Owlery; thankfully lessening all that she had to cart with her today.

She trudges along, trying her best not to make eye contact with anyone. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as mothers and fathers cling to their children and fathers proudly petting their sons or daughters on the back. She spots a rather large group of redheads, the mother busying herself with one of her sons while a pair of twins clung at her skirt, cheeky glints in their eyes. Shiri watched them a moment, the scene almost reminiscent of her own family, but that seemed like so long ago. Shaking out of her memories, she hikes her suitcase onto the Hogwarts Express, grabbing Bibbidi’s cage before heading off into one of the empty compartments.

She knocks the door closed with her heel then kicks her case underneath the seat, setting the rat cage at her side as she drops down onto the cushy old leather. Sitting up against the window, she stares down at her simple black tie, twisting it between her fingers. She’d decided to change into her temporary uniform early, her casual clothes stashed away in her bag. It wasn’t as if she’d be staying in this uniform long, her siblings had told her she’d get a new tie and robe when she got sorted.

Alone with her thoughts, her mind again slips to her siblings. The youngest of four, Shiri had been hearing about her siblings’ Hogwarts experiences since she was six years old. She’d heard some things from her mother too. After all, their mother had gone to Hogwarts in her youth; their father had gone to Ilvermorny which made for quite the amusing argument about which was the best wizarding school. The eldest of the siblings, Ezra, had been sorted into Gryffindor; Sabella and Jacob both were Slytherins; their mother, a brilliant Ravenclaw. Not that any of it matters now. Jacob had been expelled, Ezra has been missing since he graduated, and Sabella … Sabella, like their mother and father, is dead.

And Sabella, like Shiri’s late parents and missing brothers, is someone whose memory stings when thought about.

Luckily though, her thoughts can’t stray any further down the path of the lost as the door to her train compartment is pushed open and a familiar faced girl steps in, grinning.

“I was wondering when I’d see you again, Shiri,” Rowan says cheerily. She sets her cat box on the seat across from Shiri, then sits and crosses her legs at the ankles. Looking over her, Shiri notices the obviously new scarf looped around Rowan’s neck, a dark purple-y grey and rather soft-looking. “I didn’t see you with your parents out on the platform.”

Shiri’s lips twist into a tight smile. “Well it’s rather busy out there, no?” she replies simply, setting a careful hand atop her small rat cage as if to calm Bibbidi after the sight of glinting cat’s eyes in Rowan’s catbox.

“Right,” Rowan replies easily, seemingly not noticing the tension settled in Shiri’s shoulders. She just continues babbling on about her own family and their farm as the Hogwarts Express starts to chug out of the station.

Fortunately, Rowan likes to talk and Shiri doesn’t have to say much during the trip. She simply sits, lets her fingers push through the holes in the cage, feeling Bibbidi’s small nose press against her fingertips. Over the course of the trip, Shiri learns that Rowan lives on a farm and that the trees they grow there make ‘the best wands and broomsticks’, Rowan’s favourite wood type is Hawthorn, and that her cat’s name is ‘Fuzzclaw’. Rowan also pulls out her wand, explaining that she’d received an applewood wand with unicorn hair core, ten inches. She’d been upset not to get a hawthorn wand, but applewood was ‘powerful’, and ‘good for idealistic witches’.

“Can I see your’s?” she asks, a kind of underlying giddiness in her tone as she tucks her own wand away. Shiri just nods, suddenly refocusing at the question and pulling her wand from her sleeve, feeling that same odd warmth pooling in her palm and between the delicate bones of her wrist as she holds it towards Rowan. “Ooh, willow wood! They say witches and wizards with great potential are chosen by willow wands.”

“You can tell the type of wood just by looking at it?” Shiri asked, voice high in surprise.

“After living on a farm for so long, it became a kind of talent to be able to pick out different woods on sight,” she explains with a noncommittal wave of her hand. Shiri chuckles in reply, tucking her wand away again. She opens her mouth to speak, but her eyes are drawn out the window. In the foggy distance, the magnificence of Hogwarts Castle grows ever closer, erecting out of the lake and fog. Shiri’s golden eyes are drawn to it, attention immediately pulled from the conversation the two had been having. She’d never seen it, only ever heard about it from her family.

None of their words could have ever truly described it.

Rowan shuffles in her seat, awkwardly twisting to try and see what the other was looking at, though her angle was not quite working in her favour. The new silence was only broken by their soft ‘wow’s and the squeaking of Bibbidi as she scratches around in her cage. Within minutes, they’re pulling up to Hogsmeade Station and the pair of first years hurry to gather their things.

 

     Rowan and Shiri are some of the first to step off the train. The former jolts in surprise as the pair almost crash into a rather tall bearded man. He flashes a meek smile down at them, taking a step back before he calls to the rest of the first-years, telling them to ‘gather ‘round’ and ‘stick close an’ together’. It takes Shiri only a moment to recognise he must be Hagrid, Hogwarts’ groundskeeper, Ezra had always spoken fondly of him. After a few minutes, all the first-years are gathered together in three-by-three rows; with the exception of Shiri and Rowan who stick to each other, barely a step behind Hagrid. As they step onto the docks, Shiri glances over the side at the dark water. Even with the dimness of the setting sun, the water seems far darker than it should be. It’s almost impossible to see anything below the surface. Shiri leans in a little closer, squinting, then stumbles a few steps back, bumping right into Rowan as something breaches the surface right in front of her. Something that was small and green with a scowl on its cruel little face as it peers out of the water at her.

“Grindylows,” Hagrid said, voice soft and gruff over the girls’ shoulder, “Best t’ keep yer limbs in th’ boat as we head ‘cross.”

Rowan and Shiri frown slightly at each other, swallowing thickly as they clamber into one of the remaining magic boats. The little boat is already occupied by another pair of students, both with striking hair, a boy with red and a girl with pink; neither give their new boat-mates any attention, busy speaking among themselves. The girls throw a glance towards the dark water, then shuffle closer to each other, their knees knocking together as they scoot away from the boat sides. Soon, their eyes are dragged back towards the castle, the school growing ever closer and larger, lit only by candlelight in the darkness. It’s not only their boat that falls silent after seeing it, but the susurrus of the other first-years also dies down.

The boats bob on the waves, each just as silent as the students they carry as they pull to shore at the gates. Hagrid clambers out of the boat, followed by a rather fearful-looking blonde boy. They’re soon joined by the rest of the first-years, all of them looking wide-eyed at the castle.

With that, they enter the school, following along after Hagrid like little ducklings in rows of two-in-two.


	3. The Sorting

   House elves scramble as they enter the castle, taking the young students’ bags and pet cages, piling them outside the Dining Hall as Hagrid ushers them in. The hall is already filled with older students, four long house tables stretching the length of the room. High above them all, dozens upon dozens of candles float with their flames flickering, suspended in the air by nothing. Oddly, no wax falls to hit the heads of student or teacher alike. The elder students fall quiet, though their excitement is palpable as the new students walk down the middle of the hall, coming to a stop where McGonagall waits beside a stool holding a weathered leather hat that seemed to have a face.

“Welcome to Hogwarts! Before we begin the feast, you will be sorted into one of our houses. The four houses at Hogwarts are Gryffindor, for the brave and chivalrous, Hufflepuff, the kind and diligent, Ravenclaw, the wise and witty, and Slytherin, the cunning and ambitious.” As Professor McGonagall mentions each house, the respective house cheers as if challenging the other houses to see who could be loudest. As they finally quiet down again, McGonagall continues: “I hope you will all be fine additions to their ranks.”

With that, she unrolls a parchment and begins to call forth students to the chair, placing the Sorting Hat atop their heads. As Rowan comes to sit on the stool, it takes seconds before the Sorting Hat loudly calls out …

“Hufflepuff!”

The Hufflepuff table bursts into cheers, clapping as Rowan bounds down to take a seat at the table. More students sit on the chair and then join their houses. Shiri shifts from foot to foot, only a few remain now. As she’s called up, she takes her seat, staring out at the rest of the students. Of the first years, there’s a notable few, the girl with pink hair, a brunette with an odd coppery sprig right in her bangs, the red-haired boy, and a small handful of others. After the announcement of her name, she watches as many of the students, across all the houses, start to whisper. They knew her name. Sibylline. Shiri would like to hope it's because of her grandmother, Selenia Sibylline, a wizarding-world-famous designer. Or her mother, Septima, who was a famed seer before her untimely death. Or even because of her family’s deaths.

Of course, however, it would be because of Jacob; because of his expulsion, because of what he’d done a mere year earlier. The older Slytherin students fix her with particularly dark looks, remembering the prior Sibylline and how many points he’d lost them, let alone all he had done in his search for the vaults. As the Hat comes to sit atop her choppy locks, a croaking voice breaks through her thoughts.

“Ahh, another Sibylline. It seems like only yesterday I was sorting your brother. Unfortunate what happened to him,” muses the voice. Shiri shifts uncomfortably. “But what about you? Anything like Jacob? Perhaps Ezra? Or do you take after Sabella?” With each name, Shiri’s jaw tightens.

“No. Not like any of them,” she thinks back. The Hat chuckles.

“Fair enough. Hmm,” it drawls inside her head, it’s humming echoing around. There’s a feeling like something probing in her skull, picking through memories. “You are, oh yes, of course, —”

Then the Hat’s voice booms aloud:

“— Hufflepuff!”

Hufflepuff again cheers, but there’s a kind of unease to it. Shiri doesn’t blame them, doesn’t smile as she comes to sit down or as the female prefect, a blonde chubby girl with a stern look, hands over her new robe and tie. The new Hufflepuff sits down at the end of the table. Seconds later, Rowan is quickly shooting down the aisle to sit beside her. Shiri glances at her out of the corner of her eye.

“I understand if you don’t want to be my friend or whatever anymore,” she says simplistically, yanking her thin black tie off to replace it with her new yellow-and-black Hufflepuff one.

“Why wouldn’t I want to be your friend anymore?” Rowan asks, her brow creasing in confusion. Shiri’s brows raise.

“Because of my brother? And all the rumours?” Rowan just stares. “People think we’re cursed, us Sibyllines. And my brother was expelled last year for breaking the rules and searching for these ‘vaults’ and almost getting people killed. Needless to say, I’m probably not someone you want to hang around with.”

Rowan falls quiet for a moment. Shiri turns back to the table, fiddling with the sleeve of her new robe that was folded in her lap. She’s expecting Rowan to get up and walk off to a different spot at the table, but the other doesn’t move.

“I’m not very good at making friends,” Rowan says quietly, “but I’d like to be your friend. Even if you are ‘cursed’.”

There's a pause, then a small smile grows on Shiri’s face and she bobs her head in a nod: “Okay.”

Rowan smiles brightly back, then the pair turn towards the front of the hall as Dumbledore takes his place behind the podium. Truthfully, Shiri barely hears his speech, her hunger finally catching up to her, barely able to keep her hands away from the food in front of her.

 

   The dungeons are colder than Sabella and Jacob ever said. It’s dark, shooting a chill up her spine as the prefects lead everyone down. The Slytherins pass by them, Shiri doesn’t look back at them when they do, just watches out of the corner of her eye. The two houses soon part, the Hufflepuff prefects leading them down a small corridor towards the Hufflepuff Basement. As they pass a door, Shiri gets a whiff of food. She can smell bread, freshly cooked. Her attention is soon drawn back to the prefect pair as the girl — _Jane Court_ — clears her throat. She pulls her wand from her sleeve, then taps the lid of one of the many identical barrels in a pattern that is rather jolly. As Jane tucks her wand away, the wall shifts, revealing a large barrel-lid-esque door that swings open.

The Hufflepuff Common Room is strikingly different from the dungeons. Inside, the floor is golden wood, sparingly covered in parts with fuzzy yellow and brown carpets, other parts are covered with random piles of pillows in all ranges of colours, or potted plants. The walls are just as golden, bricks painted in a muted sand colour. In nearly every corner hangs planters full of so many types of flora that Shiri doesn’t even know the name of. There are no sharp angles to be seen anywhere, everything curved and arched, from the windows to the fireplace opening. The ceiling was low, but somehow, it didn’t feel suffocating, just … cosy.

That was the only way to describe it. Cosy.

As the first years step inside, they all seem frozen in awe of it. The fire in the hearth oscillates calmly, casting the room in a warm glow. Above the fireplace, the portrait of a woman toasting with a golden goblet stares out at them. Helga Hufflepuff; the sight of her only adds to the calmness.

This time it’s the male prefect to break the awed silence. He gives a clap of his hands, smiling warmly.

“Alright, first-years! Your luggage has been delivered, so take to your dorms and get some rest, classes start up tomorrow. Ladies, Jane will show you to your rooms. Gentlemen, come with me,” he said. With that, he gives a wave over his shoulder as he jauntily leads the boys away.

In the other direction, Jane leads the remaining girls off. They dip under a hanging plant, the tendrils of fern brushing their heads even as they do. Clearing her throat, Jane unrolls a scroll, starting to list of names, pointing each student towards their designated dorm room. Five to each. Finally, Jane reaches the last room.

“Rowan Khanna, Penny Haywood, Nymphadora Tonks —“

“Just Tonks!” the pink haired girl cuts in. Jane pauses a moment to fix her with a look before frowning slightly as she looks back to the scroll.

“Shiri Sibylline.” There’s a curtness to the prefect’s voice as she says it and Shiri swallows thickly, jaw tight. Jane pushes open the door, “This will be your room for the next seven years — if you stay that long. Keep it tidy. Don’t blow anything up. There will be no spell-casting in the dorms, especially nothing that would be used in duelling.”

The remaining four nod, stepping passed Jane. The pink-haired girl — _Just Tonks!_ — flops onto her bed, taking barely a moment to check if it was even her own. Penny takes her own bed more gracefully, her is located closer to the back of the room. Skipping over a bed and across from Penny’s is Rowan’s, who immediately opens her cat cage. The barn cat clambers out, sniffing around the sheets of Rowan’s bed. After a moment, it pads in a circle and flops down to sleep.

Shiri turns towards one of the last beds, closest to the door, which she promptly closes behind her. Atop her duvet at the end of her bed is Bibbidi’s cage; Shiri can see the tip of her nose poking through the cage grate. Glancing around, she watches as Rowan and Penny unpack their cases, moving their clothes and various miscellany to the trunks at the ends of their beds. Tonks does the same, though far less gracefully, simply flipping her case upside down and letting her stuff fall haphazardly into the trunk.

Opening her own case, Shiri’s almost embarrassed. A number of her school robes are hand-me-downs from her sister. She really hadn’t even brought much more than that; only her robes, a spare change of clothes, her books and wand, and Bibbidi. As she’s unpacking her suitcase, she spots something sitting at the bottom, previously hidden underneath all her clothes.

A necklace, a thin brown leather rope and a pair of pendants. On first glance, the pendants would appear like just a flat piece of circular glass and a thin flat of silver; but looking closer, one would see the individual dandelion puff-seeds trapped inside the glass, pure white and delicate. As for the silver piece, it was a flat silver disk with the chai symbol carved into it. It was a gift, once her father's, now passed onto her in the absence of Ezra and Jacob. Shiri snatches it from the bottom of the suitcase, stashing it in the pocket of her robe that she’d left hanging over the back of a chair near her dresser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiri is Jewish Mexican (jewish through her father, mexican through mother) just for future reference!


	4. Classes Begin

     Charms class is first. For that, Shiri is thankful. Charms was one of the few classes she was really looking forward to. She could only hope that she could enjoy it despite the legacy her brother had left behind for her to carry. Rowan sweeps to her side just as Shiri’s leaving the common room. She loops their arms together, her long-legged stride practically dragging Shiri’s shorter frame down the halls in her excitement. They arrive quickly at their Charms classroom, slowing to a stroll as they step inside. The pair of Hufflepuffs look around the classroom, slowly untangling their arms.

“Come now, sit, sit! Welcome to your first charms class.” Stood atop a raised podium at the end of the class, backed by tall stained-glass windows, was Professor Flitwick. Upon his command, the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors scramble to their seats, students from either house muddled together, neither choosing a dominant side of the room.

As they finally fall quiet, Flitwick begins speaking again, holding his wand high: “Today we will be learning the ‘Wand-Lighting Charm’.”

With that, the professor gives a determined flick of his wand, a blue light sparking to life at the tip as he says ‘Lumos’. The spell isn’t a new one to Shiri, albeit minor practice at home with a wand that wasn’t her own didn’t make her an expert. Sabella’s wand had always felt … wrong in her hand. Still, while she already knows the basics, she stays silent and keeps her head down, her gaze staying in her book. Beside her, Rowan murmurs quietly as she reads.

The class is nearly over as Flitwick again draws the attention of his students.

“Okay! It’s time to try casting it now; don’t be disheartened if you can’t do it in this class. You will just need more practice,” he says, lifting his wand again, “Now follow after me.” He draws the wand through the air, a quick sharp-angled swish. “ _Lumos_.”

The light appears again. The air fills with a kind of determination, Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs alike swishing and swinging their wands, echoes of ‘lumos!’ bouncing around the classroom. Shiri sets her gaze ahead of her, staring at a scar in the wood of the desk across the aisle. Her shoulders loosen, wand lifted.

“ _Lumos_.” Swish.

A blue light.

She draws everyone’s attention. She still isn’t comfortable with that. Her shoulders curve in a little in embarrassment, trying to shrink herself. There’s a murmuring that rises from the other students. Rowan beams at her, knocking against her shoulder.

“Great job, Shiri!” Rowan whispers cheerfully.

“Yes, great job, Miss Sibylline.” Shiri sets her wand down at that voice, the light disappears. Professor Flitwick steps down the aisle, stopping in front of the pair of Hufflepuffs. “That’s one of the best executions of the wand-lighting charm that I’ve seen out of a first-year in quite some time.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Shiri replies, a nervous smile growing on her face. The rest of the class had gone silent, intent on listening to whatever Flitwick had to say to their 'resident cursed sibling'.

“Ten points to Hufflepuff.” Then he turns back to the class, “That is the end of today’s lesson, you may now head off to your next classes.” The class seems to sigh in disappointment, perhaps expecting more from the recently infamed Sibylline.

As Shiri starts to move, heading to the door, Flitwick calls her back: “Miss Sibylline, may I have a word with you?”

Rowan looks to Shiri, who just smiles in reply. “I’ll catch up with you. See you in potions class.”

Rowan leaves, Shiri’s smile fades. Turning back to the professor, her hands entwined in front of her, twisting a simple ring on her thumb. Empty, the classroom isn’t anywhere as cosy as the common room. The high desk surrounding her on all sides, it feels almost like a courtroom as she awaits some kind of trial. It's suffocating. She says nothing as her gaze focuses on Flitwick. He stares back at her for a long pregnant moment.

“You look just like Jacob; except your eyes, Jacob didn’t have eyes like that. Your mother’s eyes those are. And your brother's, the older one. Ezra,” Flitwick rattles off.

“Sir?” Confusion creases her brow.

“He was a fine boy that Ezra, clever, perhaps a little slow when it came to charms, but a champion on a broom. Jacob though …” Flitwick sighs quietly and shakes his head. “Jacob was one of my best students before all that nonsense with the Cursed Vaults. Truthfully, Miss Sibylline, as much as I liked Jacob, I hope you're more like Ezra than him. Try your hardest in your classes, of course, but please don’t follow in Jacob’s footsteps.”

“… Of course, Professor.”

With that, Flitwick smiles, though there’s a kind of sadness behind his eyes. Spotting it, Shiri is quick to look away. He pats her arm, giving her slight nudge towards the door.

“Okay, hurry along now. Professor Snape does not take kindly to tardy students, not even on the first day.”

 

     “Admit it! Say I’m the most powerful witch at Hogwarts!”

The shrill barking voice is hardly what Shiri expects to hear as she moves down the hall towards the potions classroom. What she’s expecting even less is for that voice to be aimed at Rowan, whose shoulders are curving inward; even from looking at just her back, Shiri can note her meek fearfulness. Passed Rowan, Shiri can see the telltale green robes of a Slytherin.

“I – I can’t!” Rowan replies shakily, “You’re not as powerful as Professor McGonagall or Professor Sprout, Madams Hooch or Pomfrey, or any of the seventh-years. You’re a first-year. Like me.”

“I’m nothing like you,” is all the Slytherin spits in reply.

A dark glower crosses Shiri’s face, picking up her pace to step up to Rowan’s side, shoulders straight as she sets her narrowed golden eyes on the Slytherin, noticing only now that she was one of the few remaining when she’d been getting sorted. The girl with the odd copper bangs.

“Leave her alone.” A cold calmness sets in her tone, gaze never leaving the Slytherin, not even to look at Rowan when she brushes her knuckles against the other Hufflepuff’s hand as if to try and settle Rowan’s strung nerves.

“Who do you think you are?” The Slytherin snaps, glaring down her nose at Shiri, violet eyes glinting in the low light.

“If anybody should be claiming to be the best witch, it’s her. Professor Flitwick said Shiri cast the best Wand-Lighting Charm of any first-year,” Rowan cuts in before the youngest Sibylline can speak. That lights a kind of recognition in the Slytherin’s cruel eyes.

“Now I know who you are.” That single sentence sends an uncomfortable shiver down Shiri’s spine. “You’re Shiri Sibylline. Your brother lost his mind, disgraced his house – _my house_ – got expelled and hasn’t been heard from since. You should never have even been allowed to come here after what he did.”

Shiri’s shoulders tense now. Teeth gritting, she turns to grab Rowan’s hand — _“come on, let’s just go”_ — and pull her towards the classroom, but the Slytherin jumps in front of them before they can get very far.

“Don’t you want to know who I am?”

“Not particularly,” Shiri deadpans curtly. The Slytherin continues anyway.

“I’m Merula Snyde. First-year Slytherin and the best witch at Hogwarts.” Shiri doesn’t reply, just goes to move again. “I heard the professors talking about you. I should put you out of everyone’s misery before you ruin Hogwarts like your awful brother almost did.”

“I don’t want to fight you, Merula.”

“That’s not really up to you,” Merula sneers back.

The Hufflepuff’s shoulders bristle, half wishing she’d spent some time on hexes or jinxes while studying her siblings’ books. Anything that would get this Merula girl off her back, even if only for a little while. She doesn’t get a chance to reply as a man steps down the corridor towards the trio.

“Sibylline.” His tone is curt, though almost bored. “I should have known you would be trouble, just like all your siblings were.”

“Merula was bullying my friend, Professor,” Shiri reply, ignoring the comment.

“Get to class. Be lucky you aren’t getting detention,” he replies dully, “Now go.”

He stalks passed them into the classroom and Merula quickly follows after him, but not without shooting the pair of Hufflepuffs a smug look. Beside Shiri, Rowan lets out a long breath she seemed to have been holding and finally releases her tight grip on Shiri’s hand. Shiri stretches her half-numb fingers, smiling lightly at the other.

“Thanks for stepping in, Shiri. I’ve …” she trails off, sighing as her shoulders slump, “I’ve never been very good with confrontation.”

She knocks her shoulder against Rowan’s: “Don’t worry about it. Friends have got to have each other's backs, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in asking questions or getting more information, you can find me on charmscasters.tumblr.com!


	5. Potions Class

     Stepping into the potions classroom, it’s … _dreary_. It’s dark, the shadows almost completely solid black in the unlit corners of the room. Each wall of the room is shelves filled with all kind of ingredients, but those ingredients are, too, cast in shadows. How can anybody work in here? Shiri’s gaze turns to Rowan. The taller still looks wary, glancing over at Snape, who’s setting up ingredients for the day’s potion. Knocking against Rowan’s shoulder again, she nudges her towards one of the tables closest to the door. Quick getaways at the end of class. They don’t get more than a few steps before Snape is calling them all over.

Potions have never been Shiri’s strong suit. Everything that leaves Snape’s mouth draws confusion through her, from ingredients to measurements, ‘stir this way lest you blow everything up’. By the time she, shaky-legged, makes her way to their table, she feels like she knows less than when she walked in.

She sits, crosses her legs at the ankles under her chair, then looks to Rowan. Rowan was smart, she seemed to know what she was doing; however, the explanation from the other does little to settle Shiri. It still doesn’t make any sense, but she’ll give it her best shot. While stirring in salamander blood, someone yanks out the chair beside her, the wooden feet scratching along the floor.

“Bet you can’t make a better potion than me, Sibylline.”

She’s starting to not like this quickly-becoming-familiar voice. Her gold eyes flick towards Merula, sighing. The Slytherin is poised, elbows up on the desk, cat-got-the-cream smile stretching across her face.

“Bugger off, Merula,” she snipes back, stirring her potion, waiting for it to turn orange. Beside her, she notices how Rowan’s stopped moving, watching them.

“Merula, let’s just go to one of the other desks,” another voice pops in, quiet, whispered to the Slytherin. This one, too, sounds oddly familiar, making Shiri’s brow crease in confusion, but she doesn’t look up from her potion.

“Oh sit down, Allegro.” That makes Shiri pause. She knows that name. Her head jerks up, eyes wide as they fall upon the other. She’s definitely familiar. The other Slytherin stares owl-eyed back at her, shocked. _Panicked_. As she should after everything her family had done to Shiri’s, the worst of all bastardising themselves from the Sibyllines. Sonya Allegro, previously Sonya Sibylline, shoves her hand out across the table at her cousin.

“Sonya. Allegro.” Her voice is stilted. Tight. Shiri doesn’t take her hand. Was she really trying to pretend they weren’t cousins? That they didn’t know each other in the slightest? Merula rolls her eyes dramatically, slapping Sonya’s hand down, obviously noting how Shiri wasn’t going to shake it. Wrapped so tight around the mixing spoon, Shiri's knuckles were turning white.

“Shiri Sibylline. I’d say it’s a pleasure but it’s not,” she snaps, plucking another vial of salamander blood to up-end into her cauldron. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Rowan jolt in surprise by her tone. Shiri ignores her and the two Slytherins, both who were now sitting down perpendicular to the Hufflepuffs.

 

     “It seems even someone like you can accomplish a simple potion, Sibylline,” Snape drawls as he steps towards their table. It seems though, that he spoke too soon, as mere seconds later the cauldron explodes. Thankfully, none of the exploded potion gets on Snape, which Shiri can only imagine is some kind of miracle. Shape’s shoulders bristle, he glowers down his sharp nose at her. “Actually, it’s apparent you can’t. You should have never been allowed in my classroom.”

“Sir, I —“

“Enough. 10 points from Hufflepuff.”

Left gaping, she barely notices the way Merula’s grin twists up. Rowan does though and shifts, mouth opening, but Shiri knocks her foot against Rowan’s leg. It’s enough though, the other shrinks, shoulders drooping.

“Class dismissed. Leave.” Snape’s voice is cold. Shiri flinches, turning to hop of her chair, making a point not to look at either Merula or Sonya. As she leaves, Rowan is quick to stay her side.

“So much for those 10 points Flitwick gave me,” Shiri snaps, angry at herself, “I told you I was cursed, Rowan.”

“Sabotaged,” Rowan adds quickly, continuing when Shiri fixes her with a look. “You’re not cursed, you were sabotaged. Merula must have done something. Put bulbadox powder in your cauldron, I think.”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

Turning down the hall towards the Hufflepuff common room, not even the smell of freshly cooked food can lift their spirits. Said spirits only worsen as Jane marches towards them the second they step in through the circle door. She’s buzzing, tense with rage.

“We’re in fourth place! What happened?”

“It wasn’t her —“ Shiri reaches a hand out to silence Rowan’s defence.

“It was a stupid mistake, my potion blew up. I’m sorry, I’ll make up the points I lost,” Shiri cuts in. Jane’s bristles hardly calm.

“Of course you will.” The prefect shoves a piece of folded paper into Shiri’s hand, “Snape’s already sent a note for you. Do whatever he asks. Don’t lose any more points.”

With that, Jane turns on her heels, marching off. Flipping open the note, Shiri frowns slightly. Rowan creeps closer, peering over her shoulder.

‘Sibylline. I have discovered your potion may well have been tampered with. While it does not disprove your incompetence, I may consider returning your house points if you bring me a jar of boiled slugs from the storeroom. - Snape.’ Below that, there's a list of directions.

“He’s offering to give the ten points back?” Rowan asks, incredulous.

“Apparently so.”

“Then we’d better hurry to the storeroom.”

“We? Rowan, you don’t have to come with me, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, but two pairs of eyes are better than one, right?”

A laugh escapes Shiri and she shrugs, folding the note back up to stuff it in the pocket of her robe. Rowan loops their arms, tugging her along out of the common room passed the still fuming Jane and a number of huffy, whispering Hufflepuffs. They’d obviously heard about her. Or gone to classes with her brother. As kind as Hufflepuffs were known to be, it seemed not even they were immune to being irritated or fearful after Jacob’s acts.


	6. Tricked!

     “Okay, the potions storeroom should be up near the Ravenclaw tower,” Rowan says, a kind of determination in her voice as she drags Shiri along. However, they’re quickly stopped by a blonde in red robes. What was a Gryffindor doing down near the Hufflepuff Common Room? As he spots them, he shuffles towards them, kneading his hands together nervously. He looked like he could jump out of his skin at any moment, practically afraid of his own shadow in the dim hallway.

“Shiri Sibylline?” He asks quietly. Shiri simply quirks a brow at him, glancing at Rowan a moment before she answered.

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to thank you for standing up to Merula.”

Shiri's brows crease: “You saw that?”

He shifts nervously again: “I’ve been following her so she can’t sneak up on me, and if she sees me I’ll at least have the chance to run away. She tormented me the whole way here on the Hogwarts Express. She kept threatening me and call me a ... a ‘ _mudblood_ ’.”

Both Shiri and Rowan's noses scrunched at that. The word alone was enough to make them flinch.

“She’s worse than I thought. That’s awful,” the shorter Hufflepuff replied sympathetically.

“I’m just glad someone like you was brave enough to stand up to her. I couldn’t. It’s a joke that I was put in Gryffindor.”

“Everyone’s afraid of something. Or someone.”

“I’m afraid of everything though. I’m from a muggle family; everything, all of this, it’s so new and it’s scary.”

“I’m sure this is new and scary to a lot of people.” Her head tilts as she looks over him again. “What’s your name?”

“Ben Copper.”

“Well, Ben Copper, if you ever need anything, I’d be happy to help. Rowan too, I’m sure.” So much for her expected ‘lone wolf’ status. At her side, Rowan nods in agreement. Ben lights up though, smile only slightly nervous now.

“Thank you, Shiri. You too, Rowan.”

“No problem,” Shiri replies, patting him on the shoulder as she passes. “We’ve gotta run now. Got some points to reclaim.”

The pair of Hufflepuffs quickly hurry off, pausing and bounding across the moving stairs. They step on at the near latest second, the stairs whirling and swinging away from their desired location, slamming both of them into the railing as it moved. They race down another set of stairs and hop up the next before they can move again. They’re panting as they finally step down the hall towards the potions storeroom. Rowan pushes the door open and they step inside.

It’s horribly dark. Unconsciously, Shiri thinks it’s horribly similar to the potions classroom. Pulling her wand out, she flicks it with a quiet ‘lumos’. To her surprise, what appears in the new blue light isn’t a bunch of dusty ingredient-filled shelves. Instead, it’s a large tentacular plant. The pair jump in shock, quickly turning to try and escape the room, but the door slams shut in their faces. In her surprise, Shiri’s wand slips from her hand, the light disappearing and casting them back in shadows.

As the light disappears, the girls start battering their fists on the door.

“What in the name of Merlin is that thing?” Shiri hisses at Rowan between yelling for help.

“A plant called ‘devil’s snare’!” Comes a reply through the door. Merula. A particular hard punch to the door at that realisation sends a sharp sting of pain up Shiri’s arm. “If you’re so much better at the wand-lighting charm than me, Sibylline, you should have no problem getting out.”

“Let us out, Snyde!” Shiri barks, thumping her palm against the scratchy wooden door. From the other side, she can hear Merula laugh.

“You were so easy to lure with that fake note. And I got your little friend too! Good! Two less mediocre witches to deal with.”

“Merul- _AHH!_ ” Shiri’s voice is cut off as something wraps around her ankle, tearing her away from the door. She scrambles, trying to find her wand in the dark. There’s only the slightest light from underneath the door, and that doesn’t reach nearly far enough into the room to affect the devil’s snare that coils higher up her body. The tendril wraps painfully tight around her ribs, making it a little bit difficult to breathe.

“Rowan! My wand!” she cries, already sore hands fumbling to try and pull the snare’s tendrils from where they catch in her robe. She hears Rowan drop to the floor, hands scrambling to find Shiri’s wand.

“Got it!” Quick but careful, she creeps closer until she thrusts the wand into Shiri’s hand and jumps away before the plant can grab her too. “You cast lumos, I’ll keep trying to get someone’s attention to get us out of here!”

It’s awkward and, with every move, it feels like the snare is getting tighter. Still, she whips her wand around, snapping out ‘lumos’ whenever she can get her hands free for long enough. Her hands are starting to bleed from the splinters from the door and where she tried tearing the tendrils off her. She has no idea how long it’s been, it almost feels like hours until someone starts banging on the other side of the door.

“What’s goin’ on in there?”

“Help!” Rowan pleads, voice hoarse.

“Get outta the way!” The voice replies. Seconds after Rowan leaps to the side, the door is busted open, Hagrid bursting into the room. A sob, only half relief, escapes Shiri, arms aching as she tries to pull them from the devil’s snare.

“Gulpin’ gargoyles, Hufflepuff! Get away from that devil’s snare, yer scarin’ it!”

“Scaring it?! It’s tryin’ to kill me!” Shiri cries back, voice choking on her sobs.

“Okay okay, let's get yeh outta there,” he steps closer to her, placing a large hand on her shoulder, “Stop yer squirmin’.”

“What?”

“Stop squirmin’. Just go limp and it’ll let yeh go.” Shiri’s brows crease in confusion, blinking through her tears, but she does as he says. She feels her knees buckle under her weight as she falls limp, the devil’s snare barely holding her up anymore. In seconds, it simply lets her go and Hagrid pulls her up, pushing her and Rowan out of the room.

Closing the door, he turns to face them. “Now what were yeh doin’ in there, anyhow, miss … er …”

“Shiri Sibylline. And this is Rowan Khanna.” She looks down at her hands, wincing slightly at the red-raw skin and pricks of blood pooling from little cuts. She sniffs lightly before continuing. “Merula Snyde, a Slytherin, locked us inside.”

“Ah, yer that new one everybody’s been talkin’ about. Maybe trouble really does run in her family.” When Shiri simply puffs up in reply, he continues. “What are yeh gonna do now? About this Merula Snyde?”

Shiri just huffs in irritation, wiping her teary eyes with the back of her hand: “What can I do? Nobody’ll believe us. Let alone me after what my brother did.”

Hagrid frowns down at her. “Well yeh’d better just get back to yer common room. Change yer robes. That devil’s snare got you real bad.”

“Right. Thank you, mister Hagrid.”

 

     She doesn’t make any eye-contact with any of the students they pass. Her robes and tights are torn to shreds, her hands are scratched up and bleeding, there's a rather large bruise over the knuckles of her right hand too. She’s lucky her wand hadn’t been broken in the struggle. Her wand stays gripped tight in her hand, the carved ridges digging into the stinging scratches on her palm. Her pace is so fast that Rowan struggles to keep up with her. As Shiri marches into the common room, she yanks the annoyingly unripped note from her pocket, tears it in half and then flings both halves into the fireplace.

“What happened?” Comes Jane’s voice, getting up from her seat at one of the studying desks. Shiri’s hands tremble at her sides. “Did you get the poi–” Jane cuts herself off as she looks her over, “What happened to your robes?” Jane, at least, sounds more concerned for Shiri now as opposed to house points.

“The note wasn’t from Snape. It was from Merula Snyde, she tricked me and locked us in a room with devil’s snare,” Shiri replies, trying and failing to keep her voice level, tears prickling behind her eyes.

“What is with you and this girl?” Jane asks and Shiri laughs wetly, looking away to not meet the prefect's eyes.

“She’s _threatened_ by me. And I don’t think she likes that I stood up to her or – or that my brother was in her house before he was expelled or possibly a dozen either reasons! I don’t know! Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to my room to change. Sorry I didn’t get the points back.” With that, Shiri turns on her heel, storming towards the dorm rooms. She doesn’t even look back to see Jane’s gaping face at her teary outburst.

She shoves the dorm room door open, thankful that it’s empty, and quickly slams it behind her. Her shredded robe is thrown over the chair, the rest of her torn clothes tossed onto the trunk at the end of her bed. She manages to yank on a shirt and jeans before she crumpled onto her bed, face planting in her pillow, arms curling underneath it.

A few minutes later, she hears someone quietly creak open the door and whisper: “Shiri?” Rowan's voice is quiet and a little shaky with what Shiri can only guess is worry. “Are you okay?”

“I was an idiot to think this was going to be easy,” Shiri grumbles back, voice muffled by her pillow. She feels the mattress dip at her side after the door creaks shut again.

“What do you mean?”

Finally, Shiri rolls over onto her side, sniffling and wiping the tears from her eyes and staring at the wall instead of at her fellow Hufflepuff. “ _This_. Being at Hogwarts. I knew Jacob would be a tense subject, but I didn’t think I’d catch so much of the hate. They don’t even —“ she sighs, squeezes her eyes shut tightly, curling in on herself, “All they see is what he did. Not who he was. Not who I am.”

Rowan sighs in reply, gently rubbing Shiri’s arm comfortingly. “They just have to get to know you. They’ll realise you’re not like your brother. And if they don’t care to get to know you, then they aren’t worth it anyway.” When Shiri doesn’t answer with more than a quiet huff, Rowan continues. “Come on, let’s go get dinner.”

That, at least, gets Shiri moving, which makes a Rowan smile, taking the other’s hand to pull her along to the dining hall.


	7. Family Confrontation

     The next few days go as easy as they can for a witch carrying a scandal that wasn’t even her own. She keeps her rank in Charms, even manages to earn a handful more points which keeps Jane off her back. Soon enough, flying class comes around. Like charms, it was actually a class Shiri was looking forward to. It was a class that she could really prove herself in. Jacob hadn’t been good at broom flying, Sabella hadn’t bothered to put much effort in something she'd proclaimed was 'a useless skill in the long run'. Ezra had been on the Quidditch team, but unlike Jacob and Sabella, people liked Ezra.

Ezra wasn’t a stain on their family name like Jacob, he wasn’t dead like Sabella; it’d be 'a good thing' to be like Ezra.

Or so people kept saying.

As she steps onto the training grounds through, she can’t help the feeling of dread that twists in her stomach. Another class with the Slytherins. Which meant another class with Merula and Sonya. Merula who Shiri had been actively ignoring and avoiding, and Sonya who had been doing the same to Shiri. Even if there was a bunch of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors as well - she spies Rowan and Ben chatting - it didn’t mean that she’d be able to avoid Merula for the entire class.

That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t try though, creeping along the outside of the group until she can dip in beside Rowan and Ben, flashing a small smile as she joins them. That smile falters slightly as she notes the nervous expression written across Ben’s face.

“What’s wrong, Ben?”

“He’s scared of flying,” Rowan pipes in quietly. Ben sighs, his worried frown deepening.

“Falling from heights, actually. I told you I come from a muggle family; the idea of flying on a broom is terrifying.”

“A lot of us haven’t flown either. I haven’t,” Shiri replies with a shrug. Both Ben and Rowan’s eyes light in surprise at that.

“R-really?”

“Yeah, my mum was really strict about it. She was a seer, y’know? Said there’d be trouble with one of us flying outside of school,” Shiri pauses a moment, a slight tremble in her lip before she forces it into a smile, “So we never did. ‘cept for Ezra, but he was on the Quidditch team so he had to practice whenever he could. Mama would always watch over him though, wand in hand. Just in case.”

“Did it ever happen? Did he ever … fall?” Ben asks quietly, fear in his wide eyes.

Shiri just smiles: “No. He was always a good flyer. Real careful. And Ma would have never let him hit the ground.”

Ben sighs, but she can’t be sure if it’s in relief or not. His frown deepens again, fingers kneading at the hems of his red robe sleeves.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he finally whispers. Shiri reaches a hand out to pat him reassuringly on the shoulder.

“Of course you can. Just concentrate on the broom and try not to think about falling.“

“Do you promise to catch me if I fall?”

“I promise to try. But even if I can’t, Madam Hooch will make sure you never hit the ground. She’s a great teacher, from what my siblings said.”

“Well, you won’t need to worry about that today, Mister Copper. We will only be picking up our brooms today,” a voice adds from behind them. As they turn, they’re greeted with a tall woman with short grey hair. Her hawk-like eyes are turned up jovially as she looks down at them. “Now come along, line up.”

The trio walks over towards the rest of the students lining up beside a bunch of brooms on the grass. Her hopes of avoiding Merula today die quick as the Slytherin shoves a Gryffindor out of the way to snag the practice broom beside Shiri’s. On Merula’s other side, Sonya steps up. Sighing, Shiri turns to meet Rowan’s gaze with a slight shake of her head as if to say ‘can you believe this?’.

Upon Madam Hooch’s instruction, the surrounding students hover their hands over the brooms, a chorus of ‘up!’ chiming from the students, some of them nervous, other’s quickly frustrated. Despite herself, she can’t help but chuckle though as she hears Merula grumble ‘if this broom doesn’t fly into my hand, I’m going to snap it in half’. She’s quick to wipe the smile from her face as the Slytherin’s gaze whips towards her.

Near the end of the class, Rowan’s broom flies up into her hand and she beams, bouncing on her feet to turn to Shiri. She grins back. Looking back to her practice broom, she says ‘up!’ again and the broom finally snaps up into Shiri’s palm, causing her to jolt in surprise and a little bit of pain, the scratches on her palm not yet fully healed from her run-in with the devil’s snare.

“Great job, Shiri!” Rowan says, leaning against her broom.

“You too.” On her other side, she can hear Merula grumbling. She doesn’t have to look at her to know how her shoulders are bristling in irritation. Ben’s soon hurrying up to Shiri and Rowan, his own broom in hand, giving Merula a wide birth.

“Nice going, Ben!” Shiri says.

“Thanks! I guess I don’t have to worry about falling if I never actually fly, but I think I could if I keep following your lead, Shiri.”

“You’ve definitely chosen a fine tutor, Mister Copper. And you, Miss Sibylline, have quite the knack for helping your classmates. I think I’ll give ten points to both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff,” Madam Hooch adds, cutting in again for a moment before heading off to help a few of the other remaining students.

“I’ve got a few books about flying if you’d like to borrow them, Ben,” Rowan says with a smile. Ben grins excitedly back.

“That’d be great. I do like reading. Hardly anybody’s ever fallen to their deaths while reading books.”

“We can go grab them now if you want.” With that, the three start to turn to head off back into the castle. However, Shiri pauses when she hears a familiar whistle. A secret callsign that was known only to the Sibylline kids. Looking back, she meets Sonya’s eye, for only a moment as the other flicks her head in the direction of a small alcove off the side of the castle.

“Shiri? Are you coming?” Rowan asks. Shiri just waves her on.

“I’ll - uhh - I’ll catch up with you. You said you wanted to teach me gobstones, yeah? I’ll meet you in the courtyard,” she replies, taking the other two’s brooms to go put them with the rest of the practice brooms before heading off where Sonya had motioned.

 

     As she steps around the corner, Sonya grabs her arm, tugging her into the shadows, hidden from wandering eyes. Shiri is quick to yank her arm free, straightening up and fixing her rustled robes. Cautious golden eyes watch the Slytherin, almost waiting for the other shoe to drop. For a hex or a curse or for Merula to jump out. When nothing happens, she crosses her arms over her chest.

“What do you want, _‘Allegro’_.” The spite is thick in her voice. Sonya shakes her head, picking at her nails.

“Listen, I know you’ve had a hard time lately.”

“Yeah, no duh,” Shiri cuts in, grumbling under her breath. Sonya sighs, arms crossing tight over her chest.

“I’m not your enemy, we just can’t —“

“Can’t what? Let people know we’re related? Because it’ll be bad for your reputation or something?”

“What did you expect us to do?” Sonya snaps in reply.

“How about stand by your family? My family! They were barely dead a week and your family was distancing itself in any way it could. Changing your name, leaving me and Jacob and Ezra in the cold.”

Sonya scoffs: “You weren’t ‘out in the cold’, you had abuela.”

“Yeah when the Aurors finally found her! That took months in itself! I haven’t even seen abuela in a year, I haven’t seen Ezra in two. And Jacob’s been gone ever since he was expelled. I’m completely alone!”

“You didn’t have to come to Hogwarts! You could have gone anywhere; Beauxbatons, Ilvermorny, anywhere!”

“Everyone in our family has gone here for the last three generations, why should I have to change schools just because Jacob made a mistake and you can’t face who you are?”

“I know who I am!”

“You’re a Sibylline, Sonya! Like me, like abuela, like Jacob. Stop hiding!”

Suddenly, Shiri has a wand tip pointing in her face. Looking up to meet Sonya’s eye, she notes how her cousin’s lip trembles, the hand holding the wand shaking too. Shiri lifts her own shaky hand, shoves the wand out of her face.

“Why do you have to make everything so difficult? Just … don’t say anything! What do you stand to gain by outing me? Why do we both have to be miserable?”

Shiri’s hands curl into fists at her sides, nail digging hard into her palms, trying to stop the shaking: “Why do you get to have it easy?”

“He was _your_ brother.”

For a moment, Shiri’s taken aback. Then she barks a quick sharp laugh, blinking back tears. “You’re just like all the rest of them. You think he’s crazy. He was your cousin and you only care about yourself. No wonder you were sorted into Slytherin. You’re the epitome of what everyone thinks they are, a real self-preserving brat.”

She doesn’t wait around for an answer instead turning on her heel and storming off towards the castle, wiping her eyes on the back on her hands. She’s calmed herself by the time she reaches the courtyard, Rowan already waiting there, tossing around a gobstone in her hand. Forcing a smile, she takes a seat, crossing her legs and making a small motion for Rowan to sit too.


	8. The Vision

     If Rowan notices that Shiri’s got something on her mind, she doesn’t ask and instead just goes ahead to explains Gobstones. Shiri thinks maybe Rowan lets her win a few rounds. As they're finishing up and starting to pack away the game, they’re being interrupted as Merula marches out. Sonya flanks her side. Neither cousin makes eye contact, Shiri hardly even looks up from where she’s packing up the gobstones.

“Isn’t this precious, huh, Sonya?” she doesn’t pause to give Sonya a chance to reply, continuing on, “You’re both looking unfortunately well after your run-in with that devil’s snare. While you were wrestling with plants, I did some research on your brother —“

“Why don’t you just bugger off, Snyde?” Shiri snaps irritably, pushing the last gobstone into Rowan’s hand.

“You’re a danger just like him, and Hogwarts won’t be safe until you’re gone too.” A beat. “Did you know they say he’s working with Voldemort?”

“You can’t call him that! You have to say ‘you-know-who’!” Rowan cuts in, shock crossing her face at the mention of the dark lord. Her outcry draws attention from Shiri, whose hands are curling into tight fists, nails digging into the scratches.

“He’s not working with the dark lord,” Shiri snaps, “And you’re sure one to talk about the dark lord given your family history.” That makes Merula pause, tension straightening her shoulders. The Slytherin steps closer, glowering down her nose at Shiri.

“You don’t know anything about me or my family.”

“I know your parents are locked up in Azkaban because they were loyal to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named during the Wizarding War. I bet that’s why you’re so angry all the time.”

“Why don’t you just drop out of Hogwarts and save Hufflepuff and your little friend here all the embarrassment of being associated with you?”

“You first.”

Shiri’s starting to get tired of wands being pointed in her face; however, the familiarity of it means that she doesn’t react when Merula’s shoving her’s in the Hufflepuff’s face.

“Duel me. You think you’re so clever? Duel me,” Merula sneers.

“Merula, don’t,” Sonya starts, reaching a hand to Merula’s shoulder. Shiri just smirks. Sonya knows all too well that Shiri knows some duelling spells, that she won’t hold back if push comes to shove; and Merula’s going to push.

“Not now, Allegro.” Merula shrugs the other’s hand off her shoulder, keeps that wand pointed at the tip of Shiri’s nose, almost close enough to touch it. Still smirking, Shiri flicks her own wand out, rubs her thumb over the carved filigree.

“Flipendo,” Shiri says with an easy twirl of her wand. Merula stumbles back, seemingly trips over nothing, dropping her wand in the process. Wide-eyed, the Slytherin stares back up at her. Tucking her wand away again, she reaches to grab Rowan’s arm, starting to walk off. “You’re not worth my time, Merula.”

“Don’t walk away from me, Sibylline!” comes Merula’s spluttered reply as she scrambles to her feet.

Shiri ignores her.

 

     “How did you learn how to do that? We haven’t learned that spell yet,” Rowan asks amazed as they step back into the castle. A shrug lifts Shiri’s shoulders.

“My siblings. When Jacob came home one summer, he thought I should learn something. Just in case.” She pauses a moment, frowns before quietly continuing, “Guess he always was a rule breaker.”

“You shouldn’t listen to Merula. I bet your brother’s not really working with You-Know-Who.”

Shiri sighs, shrugging again.

“They say he unleashed curses on Hogwarts, that he was cursed himself. It wouldn’t be so much of a stretch to think he might be working with ... or for people to think I’m like him, cursed or mad or ...” she trails off, then forces a smile at Rowan, quick to change the subject, “Maybe I should learn some more duelling spells, Merula’s not going to give up after I embarrassed her like that.”

Rowan’s quiet for a moment then throws an arm over Shiri’s shoulders as they head back to the Hufflepuff Common Room. “I don’t think you’re mad. Or cursed. I think you’re brilliant. And I’m glad you’re my friend.”

Shiri smiles again. “Thanks, Rowan.”

     Stepping into the Common Room, Jane is immediately walking towards them. Surprisingly, she doesn’t look as mad as she usually does. That doesn’t mean that Shiri and Rowan don’t share a brief, slightly worried, glance, stopping in their tracks.

“Words travels fast at Hogwarts, don’t you know?” Jane starts. When the pair don’t reply, both stunned in surprise and confusion, she continues. “If you insist on duelling with other students, you should at least learn some decent duelling spells.”

“You’re going to teach us?”

“Yes. Hufflepuff keeps a secret duelling book in the Artefact Room. It’s full of spells and potions and techniques. Go find it, learn a duelling spell or two, and then come back to me and I’ll teach you how to properly duel.” With that, Jane turns on her heel, heads back to where she’d been studying with a handful of other Hufflepuffs. For a moment, the pair stand stalwartly shocked.

“So much for studying potions this afternoon, huh?” Shiri drawls, voice lilting in amusement, brow quirking. Rowan just beams back, quick to pull her back out the round common room door.

“This is way more interesting!”

 

     Stepping up to the door, Shiri grows wary for a moment, a frown growing on her face. As Rowan glances towards her, she smiles tightly.

“Think there’s going to be a devil’s snare behind this door too?” Shiri asked, only half joking.

“O-only one way to find out, right?” Both girls swallow thickly, staring at the door. “You ... don’t think Jane would do that, do you? She is our prefect ...”

“She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, she just ... you know, wants to win the house cup. I’m sure she gets just as mad at anybody who loses points.”

Shiri sighs and finally reaches out to towards the door to push it open. The artefact room is, thankfully, more well-lit than the room they’d been previously locked in. Also thankfully, there was no devil’s snare staring them in the face. Just a lot of dusty shelves full of scrolls, a couple cupboards, a large chest. They don’t step in yet, just bend at the waist to poke their heads in, peeking around the corners just in case.

When they’re sure no plant is going to whip out and grab them, they finally walk inside. However, Rowan’s quick to pause and grabs an old broom to shove against the door so it won’t close.

“Let’s get looking then, huh? I’ll fight the urge not to catalogue every single amazing thing in this room. I’ll probably fail, but at least I’m good at multitasking.” A smile grows across Rowan’s face as she says this.

“Someone probably should sort this place out, it’s a mess,” Shiri replies with a laugh, stepping passed her to look at one of the shelves.

“Shiri...”

“What, Rowan?”

“What, what?” comes the replies as Rowan glances over at her.

“You said my name.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Shiri’s brows crease in confusion: “But I heard a voice.” Giving a wave of her hand, she just shrugs it off, “Whatever, must have been my imagination, let’s just find that book and get out of here. All this dust is already messing with my nose.”

Rowan just laughs, turns back to the cupboard again.

It takes a while; but it’s not too bad though, even if Shiri’s nose tickles the entire time. It’s nice to hear Rowan humming to herself as she pieces through old scrolls and books and other random odd things. Lifting a sheet, Shiri comes face to face with herself in a mirror. She blinks. She looks tired, golden eyes ringed with dark circles, her choppy locks hanging in her face. She flicks them out of her face then drops the sheet back over the mirror. No time for that right now.

She finally finds the book in the chest, among a bunch of other things. Something that looks like a skull that she really doesn’t want to think too hard about, and a bunch of scrolls that pique her interest, they might have cool spells in it. Or they just might be a bunch of old boring letters or essays. Either way, she leaves them, bounces back to her feet and blows the dust off the top of the book.

“You found it!” Rowan says, stepping away from the new neatly ordered cupboard; scrolls in perfect order, books alphabetised, she’d even folded the dusty yellowed sheets that had been laying over everything.

“And you’re really good at tidying,” Shiri replies, laughing. Her laugh is quickly cut off as a splitting pain shoots through her head. She drops the book, a short cry of pain escaping her as she grips her head on either side, fingers tangling into her hair. The pain clears for a moment, flashes of images going through her mind.

“Shiri!” Rowan cries, grabbing her arm to ground her. Shiri’s hand drops and grips the sleeve of Rowan’s robe, other hand sliding down to press to her own face. “Are you okay?”

Shiri swallows thickly: “I — yeah — I just ...” She shakes her head slightly. “I think I had a vision. I saw ... a walking suit of armour. And a staircase, shrouded in mist. Ice encasing Hogwarts, spreading far and fast ...”

“Ice?”

Shiri’s fingers grip tighter to Rowan’s sleeve: “and there was that voice again. It said ... it said ‘The ice is here. The vault will open.’ Ugh, gosh, my head really hurts.”

Finally releasing Rowan’s sleeve, she bends down to pick up the book. Rowan’s brows are still creased in concern. She hugs the book against her chest, nose crinkling slightly in pain as she rubs her forehead again.

“You sure you’re okay?” Rowan asks quietly. Shiri just forces a smile.

“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s just get outta here already. I wanna get some sleep. Jane can teach us tomorrow.”

“Okay.”


	9. Hogwarts Mornings

     Despite what she’d said, she can’t sleep. The vision keeps playing on repeat through her head. That flash of white, then clearing like mist to reveal the armour and it’s clanking movements. A guard? Guarding the mist-shrouded staircase? Or guarding something passed the staircase that she couldn’t see? And then the ice. A shiver twists down her spine as the remembrance. It had been growing. Moving. What kind of ice moved, spreading over and freezing everything? Trapping people in it’s frozen grasp? Closing her eyes, she tries to focus, to remember more. The suit of armour didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen before, so she moves beyond it. The staircase. Her brows creased, squinting as if doing so could clear the mist, but it’s too thick and it doesn’t fade or shift at all.

It seems, though, that Rowan can’t sleep either. In the darkness of the room, her voice is but a small echo, shaking Shiri out of her thoughts.

“Shiri?”

“Yeah?”

Seconds later, Rowan is clambering into Shiri’s bed, pulling the sheets up to their shoulders. In the dark, Shiri can only see the outline of her, the sleek sheen of black hair braided loosely, the slight glow from under the door glancing off the sharp lines of her long nose and high cheekbones. Her dark brows are drawn together in concern.

“Your family … they’re seers, right? I’ve heard of the Sibyllines, your mother’s really famous for her visions; people say she predicted You-Know-Who’s revolt when she was young, years before it happened,” Rowan whispers.

“The women are. It’s carried on that gene or something. My mum, my abuela, my sister, plenty before them. And now me apparently,” Shiri murmurs back, rolling onto her side to face the other.

“So does that mean your brother – Jacob, I mean - wouldn’t have had visions? Like how you did?”

Shiri pauses: “He could have.”

“But —“

“Jacob had – has – the gene.” She doesn’t linger on the topic. “If he had these visions, maybe he talked to someone about it. A teacher? Or another student?”

“Maybe we could talk to one of the teachers. Professor Flitwick? Or maybe Madam Hooch? I don’t think we’ll have any luck with the Slytherins. Or Professor Snape.” A faux-shiver shakes Rowan’s shoulders and Shiri smirks, stifling her chuckle behind her hand. Neither of them were particularly high on Snape or the Slytherins’ good list.

“I’ll figure it out. We should get some sleep; it won’t do us any good to be tired tomorrow.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Shiri.” Shuffling a little closer, Rowan swings an arm over Shiri’s shoulders, squeezing her in a tight – slightly awkward – cheek-to-cheek hug then rolls back out of Shiri’s bed to get in her own. In a few minutes, Shiri hears her quiet snores join Tonks and Penny’s. Shiri doesn’t sleep, she rolls onto her back, stares up at the ceiling, listens to other girls’ snoring and the skittering of Bibbidi in her cage.

 

     She rolls out of bed a few hours later, opens the cage to pick Bibbidi out of it and tucks her wand into her waistband. She lets the grey rat clamber up her arm, settling on her shoulder as Shiri walks out of the room. Still donning her pyjamas, she pads down the dorm hall and into the common room. The fire still burns from last night, low and dim until she steps into the room, then it flares up, casing the room in a warm glow. It’s as good and similar to sunshine as they could get in the dungeons, it and the glow worms living in the glass cages that were meant to look like windows. Strolling around the room, she opens the barrel-lid window-covers, taps a fingertip lightly on the glass, watching the worms wriggle and light up as they awaken.

It’s nice being awake so early, even as lonely as it was, but the common room is cozy and warm. Quietly, she sets to work. She cleans up the scattered books, neatly setting bookmarks inside; pushes the chairs in; tosses the pillows onto the couches and armchairs and the corner designated for sitting and relaxing. She feeds the glow worms. Then she sets about watering the plants. While a majority of the Hufflepuff students plants were kept in the greenhouse, the common room had quite its own share.

Close to finishing, she flips the small sign on the wall to ‘watered’. A whole house of Hufflepuffs, if they didn’t have a sign the plants would go overwatered. However, she frowns slightly as she spots one hanging limp, wilting.

“What’s wrong with you, huh?” she murmurs to it, fingers reaching to brush the fern.

“They say plants catch curses, protect people,” a familiar voice chimes over her shoulder. Her shoulders tense in surprise, jumping to look back at the other Hufflepuff.

“You’re up early,” Shiri replies, reaching a hand up to calm Bibbidi. Rowan smiles as she yawns, rubbing her eyes.

“So are you. And you look like you’ve been busy,” she says, looking around. Shiri just shrugs her shoulders. The taller takes a slow stroll around the room, her dark hair is tied back in a sleek, slightly sleep-messy ponytail. She’s dressed in a bright yellow sweater and grey pants; her feet are bare.

“Someone has to do it.” A beat. “What did you mean? About the plants?”

“That they catch curses? It’s what my mum used to say. You name them, you look after them, then when people try to curse you from afar, then they catch it. It weakens them, makes them wilt, but hey, I suppose that’s better than being cursed. I don’t know if I believe all that though, might have just been her way of making sure that I looked after the plants at home.” Rowan’s shoulders lift in a shrug, but a nervous look of concern soon grows on her features. “Are you okay? You … didn’t have any more visions last night, did you?”

Shiri just smiles tiredly, shakes her head: “No, and trust me, you’ll be the first person I talk to if I do.” Brushing the thought away, she makes a motion towards the door, “Let’s go get breakfast, I’m starving.”

 

     Stepping into the dining hall is incredible every time. The long tables, the floating candles, the smell of delicious food filling the air. Shiri and Rowan are hardly the first people to enter, many students already sitting and eating. Heading to sit down at the Hufflepuff table, Shiri can’t help but try and keep an eye out for Merula. She’d been looking over her shoulder ever since leaving the common room, not so naive as to think that Merula wouldn’t try and make a sneak attack. Luckily though, she can’t spot the Slytherin anywhere within the dining hall.

Sitting down beside each other, Shiri pulls her plate closer, looking at the array of breakfast foods set out before them. Rowan, instead, pulls the old spell book out and sets in on the table between them, flipping it open.

Snagging a piece of buttered toast, Shiri leans in to glimpse at the pages as Rowan quickly flips through it. The pages are old and yellowed, filled with neatly written words and sketches of wand movements.

For a second, she catches the word ‘jinxes’ on one of the pages, but before she can get a good look at any of them, Rowan is moving passed it.

“What kind of spell do you think you’d want?” Rowan asks suddenly. Shiri just looks at her. Munches. Shrugs.

“Something I can use for more than simply duels, I guess,” she replies. If she was learning a new spell, it’d be nice for it to be at least useful. Or fun. It wasn’t as if she was hoping to get into many duels; plus, she’d heard that duelling wasn’t allowed at Hogwarts unless it was being overseen by teachers. Rowan nods back at her.

“Right, I’ll look for something useful then.” There’s a pause as a kind of lightbulb goes off in Rowan’s head. “Hey, maybe you can ask Flitwick to teach you a duelling spell! I’ve heard he was a really good duellist. And he did say you had great potential, right?”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Maybe I could get in a tutoring lesson in with him before class,” she muses. She munches down the last of her toast, bumps against Rowan’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later. Don’t get so lost in that book that you forget to actually eat.”

Rowan just laughs, waving her away.


	10. Getting The Upper Hand

     Hurrying up the stairs to the Charms corridor, Shiri quickly seeks out Flitwick’s office and raps her knuckles on the door. Hearing the professor calling to welcome her in, she opens the door. Flitwick’s office is rather nice. It’s well lit, there’s a bookcase full of what Shiri assumes are spell books, and a ladder leaned against it. Flitwick sits behind his desk, setting his quill back in his ink well and looking up from a scroll.

“Hello, Miss Sibylline, is there something I can help you with?” He asks, a kind smile drawing across his face.

“Good morning, Professor,” she replies, closing the door behind her. She hadn’t quite considered what she was going to say. “You were a duelling champion before you began teaching at a Hogwarts, yeah?”

His smile grows at that: “I was. I could stupefy and protege with the best of him. I’ve got a shelf of trophies to prove it.” He makes a motion to his left, a row of impressive looking trophies glinting in the morning sunlight that shone through the window. Shiri takes a step closer to look at them, keeping her gaze on them as she continued.

“Do you think you could teach me some spells?”

“There are many defensive duelling spells that we’ll cover in class, Miss Sibylline,” Flitwick replies, a slightly concerned tone growing in his voice.

“Right – yes, of course, I know, I was just – I was hoping for some … advanced instruction.”

“Miss Sibylline, what has got you so interested in duelling?”

A quiet sigh escapes the Hufflepuff. “I want to protect myself,” she replies simplistically. Turning back to Flitwick, her hands lace together in front of her, thumbs twiddling nervously.

“Duelling should only be used as a last resort; you understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course, Professor. And of course, I would never ask if it wasn’t important.”

Flitwick falls quiet for a moment, then he sighs. “Given your brother’s reputation, I thought it might be difficult for you here at Hogwarts.” Finally, he moves to stand, getting up from his desk. “Perhaps I can teach you one spell, a dueller’s most essential spell. Expelliarmus.”

“The disarming spell.” The young Hufflepuff's smile begins to grow.

“Exactly right, Miss Sibylline. Come, come, we can use the charms classroom before class.” With that, he ushers her from his office, leading her down the hall to the classroom.

  
     They had a few hours before the first charms class of the day, it takes nearly the whole of it until Flitwick turns towards her, a proud smile drawing across his face as he poises his wand, pointing it at her, standing in position.

“Brilliant. I think you have the hang of it. Now, cast the disarming spell on me,” he says. Shiri jolts in surprise, brows creasing in confusion and surprise.

“Cast the spell … on you?”

“Yes, now.”

Still wary, she takes a deep breath and gives a flick of her wand – “ _expelliarmus!_ ” – and his wand flies out of his hand. There’s a surprised expression on his face that quickly turns into a mix of pride and admiration. He turns to pick up his wand with a grin, holstering it in the crook of his arm so he could give her a short celebratory clap.

“Fantastic work, Miss Sibylline. You do have quite the talent for charms!”

“Thank you, Professor. This is going to be a huge help.”

A serious look comes to his face. “I was happy to help you, but can you promise me you will only duel if you have no other choice?”

Shiri shuffles quietly, twisting her wand in her hand. She knew duelling wasn’t allowed at Hogwarts but with everything going on with Merula, she didn’t know if she could so easily promise. Finally, she draws in a deep breath, nods.

“Yes. I promise. I don’t want to hurt anyone, I won’t duel unless I have to,” she replies.

“Good. Duelling isn’t allowed on school grounds without permission; if I find that you’ve been using this spell for anything other than self-defence, I’ll have to recommend your expulsion.” Shiri nods and Flitwick straightens his jacket, “Very well, I’ll see you in class, Miss Sibylline.”

She forces a small smile, then turns to head out of the classroom. She closes the door behind her and sighs, rubbing her face with her free hand. She didn’t want to disappoint Flitwick, or get expelled, but she knew if she didn’t duel Merula, the bullying would never stop.

If anything, it would only get even worse.

  
     “Welcome back to potions, Sibylline. You’ve got get another chance to prove yourself a failure.”

“Shove off, Snyde.”

She didn’t like potions that much to begin with, but with the additions of Snape, Merula, and Sonya, it made potions class almost unbearable. She doesn’t even look at the Slytherins as she takes her seat beside Rowan. Her chin drops into her palm, leaning towards Rowan, their shoulders knocking together.

“You find anything yet?” she whispers. Rowan shakes her head.

“I think I’ve almost found something good, but I left the book in our dorm so Snape wouldn’t confiscate it or something if he caught me reading it in class,” Rowan murmurs back. “Apparently we’re learning the Wiggenweld Potion today though, and you can use that in duels.”

“That’s lucky.”

Their conversation is cut short as Snape begins the lesson. Like all their other lessons, it’s filled with Snape’s drawling, Merula making snide comments at every chance she got, and Shiri and Sonya not looking at each other, let alone talking to each other. Tension lives in her shoulders for the entire hour. Finally, after stirring her potion for the last time, Shiri sighs. Rowan peeks over at her potion and smiles.

“Looks great, Shiri,” she says. Unfortunately, Snape is right there, frowning as usual.

“Sibylline’s potion is passable. Miss Snyde’s, however, is flawless,” he replies. Merula grins like the cat that got the cream.

“Thank you, Professor,” Merula replies, relishing in the compliment. Shiri’s jaw tightens. She wants to snap in reply, that she’d done her best and that it looked like an almost exact match to Merula’s. Instead, she swallows such comments down.

“How can I get better at potions, Professor?” she says instead. A nauseating kind of sycophancy. Snape almost seems surprised at that; and he’s not the only one, both Rowan and Merula jolt in shock. She ignores it in favour of looking at Snape, eyes wide as if awaiting an answer.

“Can you become someone who isn’t completely incompetent, Sibylline?” He replies. She tries not to flinch at that. How did someone so awful get a job as a teacher?

“Perhaps not, but I’m hoping I can get better by following your mastery, Professor Snape. I’ll surely never match your skill, but maybe I can become at least a decent student by copying you.” It made her stomach twist to act like such a suck-up. Even Merula seemed sickened by it. Sonya and Rowan just looked confused. And Snape was simply drinking it all it, puffing up like some kind of prideful rooster.

“I appreciate your determination despite being such a hopeless failure. Ten points to Hufflepuff.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, he turns away to go and examine other students’ potions. With his back turned, Shiri flashes a smirk towards Merula, dropping the act completely.

Leaning slightly in towards the Slytherin, she taunts: “And how many points did you earn for your ‘flawless potion’, hmm, Snyde?”


End file.
